Why should I hesitate to make some mention, too, of other varieties by name, seeing that they have conferred everlasting remembrance on those who were the first to introduce them, as having rendered some service to their fellow-men? Unless I am very much mistaken, an enumeration of them will tend to throw some light upon the ingenuity that is displayed in the art of grafting, and it will be the more easily understood that there is nothing so trifling in itself from which a certain amount of celebrity cannot be ensured. Hence it is that we have fruits which derive their names from Matius,[1] Cestius, Mallius, and Scandius.[2] Appius, too, a member of the Claudian family, grafted the quince on the Scandian fruit, in consequence of which the produce is known as the Appian. This fruit has the smell of the quince, and is of the same size as the Scandian apple, and of a ruddy colour. Let no one, however, imagine that this name was merely given in a spirit of flattery to an illustrious family, for there is an apple known as the Sceptian,[3] which owes its name to the son of a freedman, who was the first to introduce it: it is remarkable for the roundness of its shape. To those already mentioned, Cato[4] adds the Quirinian and the Scantian varieties, which last, he says, keep remarkably well in large vessels.[5] The latest kind of all, however, that has been introduced is the small apple known as the Petisian,[6] remarkable for its delightful flavour: the Amerinian[7] apple, too, and the little Greek[8] have conferred renown on their respective countries.

The remaining varieties have received their name from various circumstances—the apples known as the "gemella"[9] are always found hanging in pairs upon one stalk, like twins, and never growing singly. That known as the "syricum"[10] is so called from its colour, while the "melapium"[11] has its name from its strong resemblance to the pear. The "musteum"[12] was so called from the rapidity with which it ripens; it is the melimelum of the present day, which derives its appellation from its flavour, being like that of honey. The "orbiculatum,"[13] again, is so called from its shape, which is exactly spherical—the circumstance of the Greeks having called it the "epiroticum" proves that it came originally from Epirus. The orthomastium[14] has that peculiar appellation from its resemblance to a teat; and the "spadonium"[15] of the Belgæ is so nicknamed from the total absence of pips. The melofolium[16] has one leaf, and occasionally two, shooting from the middle of the fruit. That known as the "pannuceum"[17] shrivels with the greatest rapidity; while the "pulmoneum"[18] has a lumpish, swollen appearance.

Some apples are just the colour of blood, owing to an original graft of the mulberry; but they are all of them red on the side which is turned towards the sun. There are some small wild[19] apples also, remarkable for their fine flavour and the peculiar pungency of their smell. Some, again, are so remarkably[20] sour, that they are held in disesteem; indeed their acidity is so extreme, that it will even take the edge from off a knife. The worst apples of all are those which from their mealiness have received the name of "farinacea;"[21] they are the first, however, to ripen, and ought to be gathered as soon as possible.